Tee Pees Are Burning
Black Thick fog creates a curtain of hidden death riding on horse back,
A place for foot soldiers to move unseen,
The fog allied to death,
Men and horses appear then disappear,
Phantoms soldiers hidden in mist,
The fog blends with the smoke that is being expelled from the Tee Pees,
Silent and calm is the braking of dawn,
The warmth of the sun radiates the morning,
As red fingers stretch out across this peaceful scene,
Solders exposed as the fog dissipates,
The dogs are on alert and come to attention,
The horses are nervous and stamp on the ground,
Cannon fire breaks the peace,
Destruction missiles through the air,
Tee Pees and people fall to the ground,
Death and destruction every where,
The blue coats arrive to complete the task,
Tee Pees are burning,
Terrified people are on the run,
Kayos in the camp as bullets rain down,
A storm of lead cuts every body down,
Sabers flash in the morning sun as they slice through the air,
People cut down as they run to escape,
Children scattered all over the ground,
Alive none found,
Mothers and babies could not escape and died at the hands of the blue coats,
The old found huddled together tangled in agony and left to die,
Warriors fought hand to hand out gunned out manned,
History smolders in the ashes of shame,
Conscience and soul absent this day,
Men in Congress ordered this massacre,
They see not what they do,
They care not about the murder that they ordered,
They hide behind wooden doors and use the army to do their bidding,
Orders go down the chain of command and stop at the link,
Of Custer’ s command,
Orders obeyed no thought is given,
It will be done with out second thought,
The lust for power is satisfied in blood,
Blue coats are saturated in red, dripping with the life of my people,
As a mother walks in another world, holding the limp body of her child,
No notice taken of a solitary soul, walking a long a phantoms trail,
Custer and his men take innocent life,
Then leave like thieves not looking back,
Callous was the mood, indifference to the act,
As Custer and his men fade away as if they were never there,
(Posted by: cougartracks)
poem by Osceola Waters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Vision at Little Bighorn
I went to Little Bighorn
On a hot summer day,1987,
I wondered if the Seventh Cavalry
Was in hell or heaven -
Out there all alone
I came upon the old General's ghost wandering around,
He kept glancing far away
While staying close to the ground -
I'll never know for certain
If he saw me or not,
He just kept wringing his hands
As if he couldn't stop -
Upon the path where he paced
Blood dripped from his boots,
It soaked in deep and wide
Down to the prairie grass roots -
From way down in this hallowed ground
I heard the dead soldiers cries,
The agony of the lost
Who so long ago on this spot died -
No one else was there under the burning sun
This mysterious scene to see,
I observed it all
Alone, on the desolate, dry prairie -
I felt as if a visitor
Watching from another time,
Perhaps the heat had got to me
Or I'd simply lost my mind -
I tried
But I could not walk away,
I wanted to ask him 'Why? '...
Yet no words could I say -
I just stayed there
Hour upon hour,
Watching, listening... feeling it all...
As if in the grip of a strange power -
I swear I saw Sitting Bull
Riding swiftly toward me on a spotted horse,
I was knocked flat to the ground
By the passing force -
I looked up high
Into the blazing sun,
There I saw Warriors in victory dancing
Realizing full well their fight was done -
Still, I couldn't help to wonder
What of Custer? What was his fate?
Was he too far gone?
Was it, for him, way too late?
Suddenly I was brought back,
when out of nowhere an old medicine man appeared.
Looking into me, as if reading my thoughts, he said,
' Do not worry about Custer, he'll never speak another word.
Because out here all alone the General shall remain, forever dead. ' -
'As for the rest of us
We all must come to understand,
The time to live and work together
Is now at hand. '
Then he reached down and helped me up;
Together we walked the long path back;
Side by side, into the sunset,
We followed the same track. -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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A pale Horse, George A. Custer and the Seventh Calvary
A horse to Ride, A sword to wield,
an ocean of grass to tame.
The Seventh was out in the field
to make George Custer’s name.
The village stretched before them,
Custer split his force in three.
Reno’s men struck from the south
and were taking casualties.
Did Custer reach the river
before the native’s struck?
This hero of the Civil war
had just run out of luck.
Major. Reno sensed the trap and fled
And found a place to stand
Benteen brought his men to Reno
to lend a helping hand.
A horse to Ride, A sword to wield
An ocean of grass to tame
The Seventh was out in the field
to make George Custer’s name.
Out upon the greasy grass
George tried to make a stand
Two hundred men surrounded
There was a breakdown in command.
Outnumbered and surrounded
Some men simply broke and ran
But death was not to be denied,
Their blood fed thirsty sand.
Custer, mortally wounded,
with a bullet near his heart.
did not live to see the rest.
His troopers hacked apart.
The position held by Reno
And commanded by Benteen
survived several furious assaults
before the natives fled the scene.
Relieved by General Terry’s force,
They sought their fallen ones-
The bodies hacked and naked,
decomposing in the sun.
No horse to Ride, No sword to wield,
an ocean of grass untamed.
The Seventh lay out in the field
That was the cost of fame.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Connoisseurs
O look at the horses and people!
How they hurry and trample and fight!
And the smoke blowing over the steeple,--
O look, how the guns shine bright!
See this one, this soldier, he's swinging
His sword over head in the air;
How the shot must be leaping and stinging!
See the men falling down everywhere!
Isn't this what the white folks call the war?
I wonder what they are doing it for.
And there's the big flag flying splendid,
White stars pretty red, pretty blue,
All torn. Do you think 'twill be mended,
And fly out again, good as new?
See the blue coats and gray coats, --I'm sorry
They bleed and they suffer and die;
What made all the fighting and worry?
Can you think of the reason why
They killed each other, the gray and the blue?
O dusky children, it was for you!
poem by Celia Thaxter
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The Death Penalty
Bring back the death penalty screamed a lady as the blood ran, dripping from the cold concrete as her sons blood fled from its body. Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother as her child dies slowly watching the pools of life fade away from his eyes.
Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother while she watched her child being killed by the hands of another man, bring back the death penalty.
Bring back the death penalty as she screamed holding her dying child while he laid his last words and breath upon her chest. Bring back the death penalty she screamed in mercy so that she will so that she will no longer have to hold any more of her dying sons and lay them in graves before she lays in her own.
Bring back the death penalty she screamed as her sons soul left his body and he became another victim to a violent society. Bring back the death penalty, bring back our sons.
poem by Melvyn Mohan
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Soldier's Reality
The drums of war beat in the distance,
A constant beat of gun shots.
The men and boys fighting.
Waiting for the war to end, to go back home.
They sit in the cover of the long grass,
Guns loaded, hearts pounding.
They wait for a signal, a sign,
To rise, run, and fire.
Till then they sit, watching, bullets passing by.
They watch people falling, their lives leaving.
Nothing matters to them except that they live,
That they get to see their family again.
Smoke hangs in the air,
A thick mist that reminds them that they're at war,
Keeping them in reality, keeping their eyes open.
The constant rhythm of guns against heart beats,
Both pounding, both screaming.
The black sky closing in on them,
Keeping them in the small battle that they can not escape,
They move back from the front line,
Move away from the fire, the death.
Some walk, some run, some cry, some pray,
But they all move on.
They all go back to camp, to wait for more death and pain.
For tomorrow.
The talking goes late into the night.
Men and women desperate for happiness,
They sit around guns in hand,
Ready for anything.
The shooting never stops, never leaves their minds,
Even in the depths of this black night,
Nothing ends except the next person's life,
Nothing is right, nothing is normal, nothing feels real,
But in truth and in the midst of everything so surreal,
This is the soldiers reality.
by: bethany M.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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These Bombs
German soldiers at my backyard,
Russian soldiers at my backyard,
American soldiers at my backyard,
The world's soldiers at my backyard,
And like cultures at different places;
But, history is all about life.
What is your name? !
'My name is St. Louis';
What is your mission?
'My mission is to see to the peace in this world';
What is your vision?
'My vision is to conquer the world with love'!
'One head, two eyes, two ears';
'One nose, two legs, two hands';
'And, to tell the people what the future will be like'.
Soon a bomb will blast omewhere! !
Soom many people will be killed;
And like the cultures of these people around me,
For, they are always after destruction than peace.
To others, sex is like a chewing gum to them;
To others, wars are like a laughter to them;
And now, this world is preparing for war and we are running out of time!
But tell me, which of you have no past in this world?
However, some of you are still working hand-in-hand with Satan the Devil.
These bombs are falling on us today,
These bombs are killing us today,
And hatred is leading mankind to destruction!
Because, some people are really working hand-in-hand with Satan the Devil.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Destruction And Salvation
The buildings were collapsing all around
People screaming then falling down
Than not making a sound.
(I smiled)
The ground started opening up
And people falling in.
(I smiled)
The sea waters overflowed on the land
Bringing destruction, mud, and sand.
(I smiled)
The skies turned completely black
And the sounds of the lightning’s cracked.
(I smiled)
A man stopped me and asked:
Why do you smile when the world
around you is falling down?
I responded: I smile because the lord walks
by my side, and fills my heart and soul.
I grabbed his hands- “ and he smiled”
Let me walk with you, for I also felt him too.
We walked hand in hand through this barren land.
Other people stopped and asked the same question.
Then took our hands and joined us too.
The salvation of the world was coming true.
Faith, hope, love, was following thru.
As the people joined and held hands
The destruction began to cease.
And in peoples hearts
They found relief and peace.
When they looked there were thousands
Holding each others hands
For this was - part of gods plan.
poem by Louis Rams
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I Met Death
I was waiting, watching one day
When Death came along, looking
As if there was something he wanted to say
His hair was as black as the sky at night
And in the wind it blew like smoke
He had come a long way in his worn black cloak
So I invited him in and I did say
If you’d like to you can stay
But Death said:
“I’m only passing through
For the clock’s hands they say
They are ticking the seconds of my life away”
And I answered,
Thinking I’d misunderstood
As Death’s dark black eye gleamed under his dark black hood
“If your Death, how can you die? ”
You see, Death didn’t seem the kind to lie.
And Death wasn’t phased at all,
“No longer Death I may become,
Or so says He if I don’t complete
The most horrible, horrible, feat.
“The most horrible feat? ”
I had to say
Could it be so horrible,
That Death couldn’t say?
“Death, ” said Death, “is the horrible feat.”
And then he faded away, like smoke into the blue, blue sky
But I think, before he left, I might have seen him cry.
I had never in my life, seen Death again
Until the night I stood outside in the rain
When he said, “I’m sorry miss, but this is good bye.”
And I found out what it’s like to die.
So we went, and parted, to each our own way,
But one more time I want to heard Death say, “I’m sorry miss, -“
Marking the end of the day
poem by Jinny Tikanus
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The Men In White Coats Are Coming To Get Me
I'm cracking at my seems
The men in white coats are coming to get me
Don't let them take me
I'm not medicated
I haven't taken them little yellow pills
In a couple of months
They tell me i'm crazy
Well maybe clinically insane
But who cares
Not me of course
Pain goes shooting through my body.
What are they putting in my veins?
They tell me i'm too stressed out
What do they know?
They're just men
In white coats
I hear them talking
They say it's a breakdown
The girl has gone mad
It's a wonder she didn't off herself last monday
I say all men in white coats
Are my enemy!
They should be destroyed at once!
They're a menace to society!
Sorry people i'm not all
You thought i was
It's ok you must have
Mistaken me for someone else
Tears pour down my face
As they put me in restrains
They say i'm a danger to myself and others
What do they know
They're just men in white coats
Noooooooooo
Don't let them lock me up
People told me once you go in there
You never come out
I hear them coming down the hall
Im never going to see the light of day again
Cause the men in white coats have got me
(12-28-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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War Vets Dream
When he came from Nam he had a plan
That not many people would understand.
To help children see that not all in life
Was destruction and poverty.
With death and bombings all around
All he could hear was the children s sounds.
With tears in their eyes and not understanding why
Why so many bodies on the ground
And not a one making a sound.
All he could see was these faces of despair
Children did not understand and could not care.
These visions of the war would
always stay in his mind
From that day forward till the end of time.
He vowed that he would do all that he can
To help all children and his fellow man.
When you see the ravages of war
And a country torn apart
And its people scattered
Then staying alive is all that matters.
He knew that he could not stop this genocide
But he knew for the future children he had to try.
He wanted to create a place called “children s world”
A safe haven for every boy and girl.
A place where children could be children
And war they would not see.
Where they could be with friends and their families.
A place with a roof over their heads
Hot food and a bed.
He knows with time this dream will come true
“It just depends on people like you.”
poem by Louis Rams
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I Am Dead
I am death, and the right hand spells well this left hand;
I sadden the soul of mine, innocence does correct it
When the hands will replicate the blood of ages
And the green and blue grass shall witness a shower from up above.
I am life, the harbinger of life and all of forgotten life;
Like a tree that blossoms for its head and legs to carry more energy.
And then all of the wonder has been remembered
losing a request from soldiers of the tree,
do think this polite, please.
I live with guesses and estimates giving us joy
As much as the death of people
As much as the living spectrum of vision
As much as dead men and women who learn from each other.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Phantoms Of Death
There are phantoms here on earth who take away our lives
They kill your kids and they rape your wives
They rip your flesh tear your heart take you down to hell
They dont give a damn on any kind of life
Phantoms bring evil, destruction and death
Night after night the same old game
They all look so harmless but deep in their hearts
Satan is lurking, and he will break out
Always someone at your back only waiting to attack
Chorus phantoms of death, phantoms of death
The empire of deceivers is built upon your fear
Youll have to lose it cause the end is near
Warheads, armies stand to strike I know it isnt right
I wanna get out of here I dont wanna die
Infernal destruction of fire youll burn
Then youll be helpless but its not too late
Stand up right now and youll be the winner
Or satan will get you, take you forever
Genocide everywhere, wheres the saviour of this world
Chorus phantoms of death, phantoms of death
Where is he the promised saviour the one wholl save the earth
Perhaps hell come to bury us but then itll be too late
Who are they who are the phantoms who will end our lives
Its you and me, you and me open up your eyes
Phantoms bring evil, destruction and death
Night after night the same old game
They all look so harmless but deep in their hearts
Satan is lurking, and he will break out
We are all parasites of this world we shall die
Chorus phantoms of death, phantoms of death
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Midst Of War
in the midst of war with bodies lying on the ground
walks a band of children-their families can't be found
searching through the rubble of homes that used to be
looking for food and clothes just to survive
because of their elders who choose to live a lie.
as i look through their eyes-all i can see
is death and destruction staring at me.
these children are not to blame for what is all around
but! if its not stopped they'll be laying on the ground.
they search thru this destruction in hopes that
they'll find-others to join them.
as they walk down the streets-the elders stop their fighting
to let them pass.
but this is just temporary- they know it will not last.
other children see them marching down the streets
they dropp what they are doing to join this band
knowing in their hearts it's time to take a stand.
this band is getting larger and the children start to shout..
what is this war? whats it all about?
can't you see the lives that have been taken?
because of this war the ground is still shaking.
the elders stop their fighting as the children all sit down.
they scream'we are not moving until this fight is through.
if this is what you want we will die with you.
you think only of yourselves and not what we're going through.
and when we die-what are you going to do.
there will be no one to carry on your name
there will be no heritage to be found
it will be burned to the ground.
look at our faces and you know what you will see
death and destruction surrounding me.
so we ask you from our hearts-it's time to change.
it is not something which is hard to do
it's all up to every one of you.
poem by Louis Rams
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Beyond The Temple ('78 Demo)
Beyond the temple
There lies a tomb with a king from long ago
A traveler from a distant planet
Ten thousand years or so
The legend tells of an agin' man
Whose city he built alone
Till the pirates of our western world
Tore it down stone by stone
The clouds are gettin' heavy
As he points unto the sky
But with the guidance of his finger
He let the lightning fly
So don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
He gathered up his people
And he took them underground
To the caves of silvery water
Where they never could be found
The king came to the surface
Could not believe what he had found
The temple left in ruins
His city knocked to the ground
He went back to his people
Sad news he had to tell
The only justice for the king
Was to put these men in hell
So don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
His face showing sorrow
His heart full of grief
His life's work in ruins
Destroyed by a thief
His people just sit around
His children just cry
The king's mind is all confused
Just wonderin' why
The temple split in half
And scattered through the desert
The dust had risen in the air
The race of people had to live in devastation
Why wasn't he even there?
Message from the gods to gather up his people
The kingdom couldn't lose them there
That's when all the gods and all are livin' peaceful
Just a galaxy away
The king rose up from underground
To light the darkened sky
Red lights, green lights, blue lights flashing
It seemed a mile high
As it lifted from the ground
And soared into the air
The king looked at what might have been
A world that needed care
A storm had risen quickly
Across the take of hope
Now there's no trace of the king
Just a memory carved in stone
So don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voice Of The Apostle
while laying in my bed one night, i saw such a beautiful sight
an angel came to me and whispered in my ear ever so gently.
do not be afraid my child, i have been with you for a long while.
deep within you there is a task that must be done.
the lord has chosen you to be the one
to spread the word just like so many have done before
it will be your job forever more.
the lord is tired of seeing death and destruction every where
and not many people who really care.
destroying all the beauties of the earth.
the grass, the trees, the ocean blue
it was given to me and you.
not so it can be destroyed by the hand of man.
now it's time to take a stand.
the cures for all the sicknesses are given to us at birth
it is here on this earth.
cures are found all around, even deep in the ground.
we cannot continue destroying what the lord has given us.
this is the reason that he sent his son.
so that in our mind we could see
what he has done for humanity.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Beach Wore Red
A glass camouflage of
Waves hunched upon waves
Sounding the eminent and mortal attack
The sky so blue just the morning before
Rains ashen and gray today
War emits its screams and explosions and death
A tsunami of destruction and terror
Pushing forward those not so brave
Today the beach wore red
A soldier falls up the shore
Grasping a hill of silken bloody sand
A piece of land and then nothing more
Run, run to nowhere and a medic takes his hand
Look for the next place to hide -
Or seek out someone in command
Soldier grits his teeth and crawls -
Trust the buddy system
No one in an Army is abandoned
Chokes back the terror and the dust, presses back his helmet
In a moment can he take another man's life?
The sulfuric stench of smoke and spent ammunition
Caissons of cannon blasts and the ascrid stink of buring flesh
The gasping rasping rattle, the fight for life
And the sound of the silence just before death
Searing shrapnel, furious bullets zing around the Soldier
And his buddies on either side of him are no more
Bodies stacked like cord wood
Waves weep for them then sweep them far out to sea
Or bury them deep in the sandy beach - the tide oozes crimson
Who knew it would be like this?
It was supposed to be noble - a holy thing
With marching bands, drums and fifes
Hardy smiling brigades of lads to lift the flags
Handkerchief waves and burning kisses
From the rose lips of gals left at home -
A letter to say 'come home' with 'small love poems'
But it wasn't that way - just old dead dreams
And pale grim epitaphs -
Labeled dog tags on the toe - a rush to get to shore
The next contribution would be on the country's altar
Perhaps that would be acceptable - preferable - an honor -
A good soldier has to believe
If it comes to that - Being maimed and left for dead
Now that is another damned thing -
There's no comfort in the loss of part of your being
Told 'hurry - move on Soldier - can't stay here'
Nakedly aware of the rifle that isn't there
The saber the soldier will not bear
The medic is called again and again
And the beach wore scarlet in spite of him.
The soldier of conscience thinks better of this
He took an allegiance to serve in the depths of hell
The wide open eyes of death communes with the soldiers - always
Yet the beach doesn't care
It spies another living being
Now wounded and dying
She picks at his limbs as he moans
And she sucks him down
Into her black abyss
Gobbles him before the next soldier's very eyes
Would he have shot the ocean too?
Would you?
How crimson the hands
Of the Soldiers at play
How red the ocean blue.
poem by Joyce A Halvorsen
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Freedom Writers
Here we are
how history always repeats each time
as old as many clichés
how much can you take in
how can you laugh at a time like this
how can you call yourselves soldiers
are you fighting 'til fulfillment, for honor, your country, or your people
cuz we are all decent human beings
of earth, of Mother Nature
why can't we all just get along
or are we fighting 'til we forget the reason of why we started like so
you drunken b--ds
excuse my language
maybe I'm just angry at myself or just in that dream
where life is everywhere
everywhere that of peace, a place so called utopia
you stand and fight your ground
kill children with zyklon b
murdering thousands to smithereens with that mushroom cloud
those innocent people, or so called scapegoats of the holocaust
or not so innocent people but we all make mistakes
those innocent people who died from 9/11
those twin towers falling down
those arrested and hanged in Salem of witchcraft
no referee, no coach, no teacher, no general to command this war alone
we are all in this together
with our troubles combined brings a heavy burden hanging from our necks
what kind of war are we in!
Don't you know that rage kills
I've seen it before
I've felt it before
those blood in your eyes
ravaging the hate below your nose
I don't know what it feels like the kill someone
or someone you once loved die in your very hands
is war about revenge
or is it about justice
cuz if you don't notice
as you are raging
love ones are falling and yet you don't notice it
rage killing
so lonely, so desperate
does revenge really solve everything
do you feel satisfied after you finished him/her off
it's just so sickening
so hateful
are we human beings
or are we monsters
this nonstop ringing in the ears
just chopping that machete as we go screaming
assaulting others with the devil in your ear
man, can't you see that this isn't a comedy
how can you not hear yourselves
cuz I know somewhere I your heart, you're crying
these fragile souls
fighting monsters so soulless
cuz when they die
they'd haunt you back
war is like everyday life but ever so hard
like that holocaust
where ashes goes flying from those old smokestacks like snow on the ground
where is the love
the human equality we once stated once before
people kill
people die
raging of love ones falling
more and more scattered by the fearsome blade that come stabbing
come about with that energy with revenge
how now just put it into work of saving others
like how you can kill others so defenseless like having AIDS or HIV
this is like the money crisis, about that Wall Street
where Harlem Street rides along
where the Great Depression hit us all so hart
hmm the one-child family rule of China
or so called overpopulation
or so called of ancient times of the slave trade
not what I like to talk about
but gotta let it out
all these feelings burn my heart out
where is the justice
where is the love
this is the war we were fighting for before
this not revenge we used to talk about
this not some lives you can just melt back
this what we are fighting for once before
the so called UN to bring world peace into once
this one who writes as others did so too
we are called the freedom writers
poem by Kevin Wang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Soldier Has A Dream
After a war a soldier sometimes has to cry as dreams of those memories waters in the eye.
It's very sad when this world of ours goes to war.
Peace is the thing that soldiers have fought and died for.
With hands held in the air a soldier cries a bit but people are blind to dreams that do not fit.
Some people abuse this world but one day they'll find that they've lost their battlefields and they are unklind.
Lost battlefields and dreams with no victories won, following the forgotten hero.
Here they come.
They bury the dream because they cannot recall what it was that made the Soldier stand proud and tall.
Soldiers come from all walks of life.
Sisters.
Brothers.
Soldiers with many dreams seldom shared with others.
Soldiers who had loved ones and families back home.
Some soldiers are just children
and still on their own.
Honoured I feel to remember soldiers this way.
I salute them have I your attention I say.
Stand at ease,
fall out.
Sir nobody knew his name.
Dear God you know who he was our dream was the same.
Undaunted was the soldier in the face of fear.
No turning back.
Each soldier shed a silent tear.
But I wonder why no one hears the soldiers cry.
Listen today as soldiers go to fight and die .
Try to imagine the soldiers forgotten dream.
Keep the memory of what the Soldier
had been.
It haunts us today and remains here in our time.
Ghosts with forgotten dreams remain.
Its such a crime.
What the soldier fought for is what we must redeem,
as we look back and try to recapture the dream.
The ship's sunk and they say,
we're glad we missed the cruise.
Don't take for granted things in life we shouldn't loose.
When the battle is over and the dreams don't sit.
Every soldier must cry just a little bit.
By Paul McCann
poem by Paul McCann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chain Of Command
How bright are the fires of thought
In a chain of command
How bright is the medical torch
When its put in our hand
My microbes and i
Cant wait to lay down and die
We realise that we must be spent
Like the cells that dissolve when a brainwave is sent
How bright are the fires of thought
In a chain of command
My bloodgroup and me
A body of soldiers are we
To the wound we quickly flowed
And we fought with the weapons in our
Chemical code
How bright are the fires of thought
In a chain of command
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Chain Of Command
How bright are the fires of thought
In a chain of command
How bright is the medical torch
When its put in our hand
My microbes and i
Cant wait to lay down and die
We realise that we must be spent
Like the cells that dissolve when a brainwave is sent
How bright are the fires of thought
In a chain of command
My bloodgroup and me
A body of soldiers are we
To the wound we quickly flowed
And we fought with the weapons in our
Chemical code
How bright are the fires of thought
In a chain of command
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!